


Misfit

by cobalamincosel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, M/M, Rap Battles, mention of anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26928676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel
Summary: At the end of another rap battle, Mark calls out to Johnny with a proposition.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 24
Kudos: 333





	Misfit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poolies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poolies/gifts).
  * Inspired by [take it up, bro](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837567) by [geminiboys (thegreatmoon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatmoon/pseuds/geminiboys). 



> I saw Misfit, saw a clip of Johnny backing Mark up into a corner while rapping, lost my mind, Eda lost their mind, and I drabbled on Twitter. This is for the folks who don't hang out on twitter but might wanna read some quick Johnmark. :P 
> 
> Thanks to Sol, whose work inspired both Eda and I! Please check out their work as well, listed below.

“Suh,” Mark says, eyeing Johnny from across the cage. 

The battle’s over—Sungchan had won, but Mark had been a close second—and most of the club’s cleared out already. 

“What?” Johnny says, and while the look he throws Mark isn’t entirely warm, Mark knows that there had been something earlier. He’d felt the electricity crawl over his skin when Johnny had been watching him go against Sungchan. 

They’ve been dancing around each other for what feels like weeks now, and Mark’s not sure where he stands with the surly man, but he knows that he needs to give it a shot. 

“You were good tonight,” Mark says, leaning against the wires of the cage, hoping that he doesn’t give away the fact that his heart is hammering away in his chest. 

“I don’t need you to patronize me, Lee,” Johnny says, finally locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket. He looks across at Mark. Wary, but intrigued, if Mark’s gut is anything to go by.

“I’m not being patronizing,” Mark says, jutting his chin out. “I mean it, man. You were really good.” 

Johnny sighs and walks over closer. 

“Sure, but not good enough to get through to the final round,” Johnny says, hands in his pockets. “You were fire. As usual.” 

Mark doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands because they’re shaking. He can feel himself on the verge of doing something reckless, something stupid, something supremely ill-timed. 

“Th-thanks,” Mark says, glancing down. When Mark’s got the microphone in his hands, he can do anything. Say anything. Be anything he wants to be. But when the high of the battle comes down, it’s a little bit harder to pretend. Especially when it comes to Johnny. 

Because the fact of the matter is this: they may be opponents when they’re across each other trading verbal jabs, but Mark has wanted Johnny from day one. 

Mark’s skin prickles with something akin to anticipation. 

“I’ll get you next time though,” Johnny says, and there it is: the smirk that had made Mark weak in the knees the first time he’d faced-off against Johnny. Cocky. Confident. Even if his tone is different from Mark’s own. 

“How about getting me tonight?” Mark says without missing a beat. He tilts his head back, looks into Johnny’s eyes only to find a piercing gaze that pins Mark in place, like those butterflies his grandmother has mounted and framed in her living room. 

Johnny takes one step closer. 

“Are you fucking with me, Mark?” 

Mark swallows, and reaches out a hand, slow. Slowly. Until his fingers hook under the necklaces Johnny has looped and resting against his exposed chest. 

“That isn’t the kind of fucking I’m talking about, Johnny,” Mark says, his voice dropping, and it’s the shittiest line he’s ever used on anyone, but Johnny’s eyes drop to Mark’s lips, and he knows he’s won. 

He tugs firmly until Johnny’s lips are a breath away. On either side of his head, Johnny hooks his hands on the chain link fence. 

“What are you waiting for?” Mark asks, and in the space of an inhale, Johnny’s lips press against Mark’s own. 

Jesus, Johnny’s a good kisser. Mark had expected it. Thought about it. Jacked off to dreams of it. But being here, Johnny’s lips sliding against his own, is an entirely different beast. 

Johnny’s tongue traces against the seam of Mark’s lips and Mark opens up like a flower in bloom, moaning into the kiss and bringing his hands up to cup Johnny’s face. 

Easy, so easy, maddening in the way Johnny steps in closer and crowds Mark in against the fence. They part for air and Johnny mutters, “Fuck, Mark,” and Mark chases his lips for another kiss, and then another, wet and warm and perfect. 

“Want you,” Mark says in between every gasp of air. “Take me home.”

Johnny presses in with his hips, and Mark pulls away from the kiss to catch a breath, because Johnny feels hard against Mark’s belly, and that alone makes Mark want to climb the fucking walls, knowing that Johnny is hard for him just from kissing. 

“Okay,” Johnny says, finally stepping back, one hand cupping Mark’s jaw. “I’m taking you home with me.” 

-

They don’t make it to Johnny’s. 

Or, well, they do, but not before Mark gets his mouth around Johnny’s cock halfway home and Johnny has to pull off to the side and park his Range Rover in some empty street because Mark’s mouth is making his driving shaky at best. 

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny gasps, hand resting lightly on the back of Mark’s neck. Mark moans for good measure, because the more he does, the more Johnny bucks up into his mouth, and the more he loses control. 

Mark finds that he quite enjoys doing that—making Johnny lose control. 

“I’m gonna come if you keep this up,” Johnny says through what sounds like gritted teeth. Mark pulls off until just the tip remains, and flicks his tongue against the head of Johnny’s cock in response. “F-fuck—oh fuck—do you want me to come right now?”

Mark wraps his hand around Johnny’s dick, strokes up gently, and says, “Why not? I’ll just make you come again later.” 

Johnny’s head hits the leather of his headrest just as Mark swallows him down whole again, and Mark would smile to himself if his lips weren’t stretched around the most gorgeous cock he’s ever seen, or had the privilege to have in his mouth. 

“I’m so fucking close—Mark—shit,” Johnny says, and Mark reaches in past the base of Johnny’s cock to fondle his balls gently, and then Johnny’s thighs are tensing up, his breath stopping, filling Mark’s mouth with his cum. 

Mark swallows, greedy, jonesing for it, eyes closing while Johnny’s fingers find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, like he’s just holding on while Mark decimates him. 

When Mark pulls off, he becomes acutely aware of two things: one, Johnny post-orgasm has got to be the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his goddamn life, and two, Mark is so hard that if Johnny decided to even blow a kiss in his direction, Mark would probably come, too. 

“Was that good for you?” Mark asks, wiping the sides of his lips, the bitter-salty-sweet of Johnny’s cum still sharp on his tongue. 

“I knew you had a mouth on you but Jesus,” Johnny laughs, and brings Mark in for another kiss, licking into his mouth. This is new for Mark—all the other boys he’s ever hooked up with hated kissing after he blew them, but Johnny seems to show no such qualms. 

Mark smiles into it, and Johnny presses one last kiss into the corner of his mouth before pulling back, stroking his thumb on Mark’s cheek, and saying, “Come on. Let’s get us home so I can return the favor.” 

Mark keeps his hand on Johnny’s thigh the rest of the car ride to Johnny’s apartment, and when they finally do make it inside, Johnny has Mark pinned against the door the way he’d pinned him into the chain link fence barely an hour prior, except this time, Mark’s got his jeans and boxers and everything strewn all over the floor while Johnny lifts him up, and Mark wraps his legs around Johnny’s waist. 

Later, Mark cries out with his teeth biting down on Johnny’s pillow, it’s that good. Johnny fucks him like he’s familiar, like he’s knows exactly what Mark wants, and as Mark’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he comes all over Johnny’s sheets, he thinks to himself through the haze of his orgasm, that he’d like very much to learn everything that Johnny wants, as well. 

Rap battle rivalry be damned.


End file.
